Vallaslin: A New Life
by DandelionFable
Summary: After the events of Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening, Falere Surana finds her mind drifting back to the shy templar she left behind in the Circle tower so long ago. But when her path leads her to Kirkwall and she is captured by templars, her life suddenly takes an interesting turn as she turns to the Dalish for refuge - which path shall the Hero of Ferelden walk now? DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

The Blight was over and we were victorious. I know it was selfish of me to go through with Morrigan's ritual but I couldn't let Alistair die. Or myself. I had to live so that I might return to the Circle of Magi. I had to see Cullen again and somehow it didn't seem right to let one of my best friends die just so that I could satisfy one of my own personal desires.

Maker forgive me, I am selfish.

Morrigan disappeared not long after our party left Fort Drakon, after the archdemon had been slain by my hand; during our travels the witch and I had become friends – or at least that was what it seemed like, and what Morrigan once told me – which left me with a sliver of hope for her that she wouldn't use the power of an Old God against Thedas.

I guess we'll see.

They called me the Hero of Ferelden – a name to honour the army I had built with the Grey Warden treaties and the service I had performed for my country when I slew the archdemon – and so I became the first elven hero in four centuries since Garahel stopped the Fourth Blight.

But being a mage still made some of the citizens of Denerim skeptical of me. Not long after Alistair's coronation, the rumours began.

My favourite one was that I had infiltrated the Ferelden Circle of Magi in order to plant the seeds of Uldred's blood mage uprising, and that I was working for the Tevinter Imperium. "No one would suspect an elf…" I think I overheard some gossips at the Gnawed Noble Tavern say that.

But the Circle had been rebuilding and soon I would return. It had been too long since I had bid First Enchanter Irving goodbye after purging the tower of blood mages and abominations. It had been just over a year since my victory atop Fort Drakon and for a while my duties were somewhat…relaxed.

Whilst I had been eager to return to Kinloch Hold and help re-establish the Circle of Magi, Alistair persuaded me to stay and help him to restore order in the capital. How could I say no after everything he had done with Morrigan to ensure that we both still lived? So I stayed; listening to rumours of how I was a Tevinter spy. Lovely – have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy the loyalty of Ferelden's people? You save them from darkspawn and the moment everything is cleaned up and nice again, they start blaming you for making the mess.

I wondered about Cullen a lot. He had been through so much during the Blight. Perhaps if I had gotten to the tower sooner then he wouldn't have been captured by the abominations. He wouldn't have been tortured and tormented. Why did those monsters have to torture him with non-existent memories of me?

When I found him trapped just outside of the Harrowing chamber, I couldn't believe just how much he had changed in such a small amount of time. His golden eyes used to shine with good intention and gentleness but when I found him and he saw me… I was taken aback by just how much hatred and fear met my worried gaze.

He thought that I was a demon.

Of course he did. They had tortured him, teased him with images of a life he could never have. A future he desired for more than anything. A future with me. They showed it to him and then ripped it away, twisting it into a vile, cruel fragment of nothing.

I will always hate them for what they did to him. It is time to go back. It is time to tell him how I feel and damn the consequences.

Its morning and I dress myself in my armour. I've become somewhat irritated by the lack of protection mage robes provide me, but then again – they were not designed for a mage to run about chasing darkspawn.

Alistair offered me a guest room in the Royal Palace which I had accepted, but after a while I told him I would rather stay in Amaranthine. It was only fitting. Most of my companions had departed a few months after the Blight had ended. Wynne, however, had joined me after she returned from the College of Magi in Cumberland.

"I shall stay with you until you decide to return to the Circle." I never understood why she had so much faith in me. Her borrowed time was lasting very well – I had made her promise to not over exert herself with her magic. She was like a mother to me now, and although I didn't want to make her feel guilty for using magic – I didn't want to lose her either. The spirit inside of her that prolonged her life would only last so long.

I go and find her in the library in the estate of Amaranthine.

"You have that look in your eye," she says, smiling warmly, "Are we to return to the Circle?"

I nod, "The sooner the better."

After making a deal with a dwarven merchant caravan to carry us as far as Lake Calenhad, it finally begins to set in. I am to return to the Circle. I will see him. I close my eyes, trying to remember the last time I had saw him that didn't involve crazed maleficarum or abominations. It was just before I was recruited by Warden-Commander Duncan and just after my Harrowing.

He was stationed in the hallway on the second floor and I was walking past to speak to Irving in his office. The Templar and I never seemed to talk much, although he always smiled at me whenever I saw him. It was sweet of him; he always seemed to be so nervous whenever I would just suddenly appear.

I remember it now, his voice crystal clear in my head.

 _"_ _Oh, um, h-hello. I… uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly." I was used to his stutter and the way he had to resist rubbing the back of his neck._

 _"_ _Hello Cullen." My heart fluttered and I mentally kicked myself. He was a Templar. I was a mage. I knew how he felt, so I shouldn't lead him on._

 _He looked nervous again, "Th – they picked me as the Templar to strike the killing blow if… if you became an abomination." My eyes dropped from his. I instantly felt guilty._

 _"_ _I – It's nothing personal; I swear! I…uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know."_

 _I did know._

 _"_ _Would you really have struck me down?!" I blurted out, my heart pounded furiously. He looked uncomfortable._

 _"_ _I would have felt terrible about it… but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded." I swallowed, I was a fool to think that he would defy his commands just to protect me. A pathetic elf. And a mage._

 _I pushed away my feelings. The desire in me made me want to confess to him right there and then about how his amber eyes made me melt. I wanted to kiss him and hold him tight; to show him that I was not an abomination time bomb waiting to go off. That I was a person. That I could love. And that I loved him._

 _But I didn't._

 _"_ _I shouldn't distract you from your duties." I said instead, blinking back frustrated tears._

 _He smiled then. By the Maker, I miss that smile._

 _"_ _Oh you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but… well you're not." He sighed, "I mean, you can come and talk to me anytime if you want." He rubbed his forehead._

 _"_ _Uh…uh yes. Maybe we can talk another time."_

If I had realised that 'maybe we can talk another time' meant when he was imprisoned by a blood mage, I probably would have confessed to him a lot sooner. His presence kept me grounded, helped me remember that not everything in the Circle was bad.

We arrive at the Lake Calenhad docks and find our way across the lake to the tower. I gulp as Wynne and I approach the doors. Surely they weren't always so big and intimidating? But I still feel a tinge of excitement at the thought of seeing _him_ again. Then I panic. What if he doesn't want to see me? What if I just remind him of all the images the demons showed him? Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all…

Wynne opens the doors and gestures for me to go in first. The entrance looks better, much better than it did a year ago – although when there were Templar bodies strewn across the hall, it makes it very hard to get any worse. Templars are stationed at the doors.

First Enchanter Irving is waiting for us. Huh? Wynne must have sent word ahead. He looks much older, more tired. Not that I blame him. The Blight took its toll on everyone.

"Falere. Wynne. It has been too long." He embraces us both and then gestures for us to walk with him though the tower halls.

As we walk, I begin to realise just how well the tower is looking again. I can see no trace of blood anywhere, which is reassuring. The bookshelves have been repaired and the tables are stacked high with salvaged tomes. The Circle has done well – all things considering.

I am unaware that Irving is watching me survey my old home – whilst keeping an eye out for Cullen – and for a moment I think that he is about to say something about the events that occurred a year ago, but instead he talks to Wynne about his future plans for her.

There is no sign of Cullen yet. He was usually stationed on the second floor, but perhaps things have changed. We go up the stairs and again I search for him but by the time we reach Irving's office I still haven't seen him. Anxiety gnaws away on my stomach. What happened to him after the Blight?

Knight-Commander Greagoir would know. How very convenient then, that he is already in Irving's office when we enter. But do I dare ask? Would he wonder why I care about the whereabouts of a specific Templar? Perhaps not. I could simply be asking because of the state I found Cullen in during the Blight.

I nod at Greagoir when he sees me.

"You would make an excellent First Enchanter, Wynne." Irving says, sitting down and gesturing for my companion to do the same. She sits and turns to me:

"Do not let us bore you with our chatter, my dear. You must be tired."

Greagoir steps towards me, "I was hoping to have a word."

I nod. "Let us go elsewhere."

The library is empty when we arrive, an unusual sight. It has an… unsettling feeling to it. The kind that makes me feel like I am being watched by someone other than the Knight-Commander.

"So many Templars died here a year ago." Greagoir says, staring at a blood stain on the floor that is half covered up by a rug. How artistic.

"How were they after everything?" I ask. Cullen was not the only such Templar to be tormented, but he was the only to survive. Others were charmed and possessed by desire demons who allowed them to live their dream lives inside of their head whilst they were feasted upon. I slew many such demons when I purged the tower. Not all of the Templars had looked kindly upon being ripped away from their fantasy world however, and we were forced to kill them in self-defence.

"A great many of them were transferred to other Circles. They wanted to get away from the memories that were here." He looks at me.

"Cullen took what happened particularly hard." I freeze. Does Greagoir know? I try to shrug off my fear. Of course he doesn't. He is just being helpful. Making sure that I know what happened after I left. Greagoir is being helpful? Well that's a first.

"He still wanted to serve, however," Greagoir goes on, "So he was transferred to Kirkwall. He's the new Knight-Captain there, I'm told." My heart sinks.

Cullen was in the Free Marches now, in Kirkwall of all places. That was so far away. A newfound wave of determination flashes through me. I wasn't the Hero of Ferelden for nothing. I have battled darkspawn and demons and abominations in order to reach my goal before. I will not let the Waking Sea stop me now.

I bow to the Knight-Commander, "Forgive me, but might we continue this discussion later? I fear I won't be able to stay awake for much longer. It has been a long day." Without waiting for him to answer, I head to my old quarters and collapse on my bed. I feel my eyelids grow heavy as I slide into an wary sleep. The Fade awaits and tomorrow I start my journey to Kirkwall.

Maker watch over me.


	2. Chapter 2

The haunting silhouette of The Twins begins to grow as the ship ploughs through the Waking Sea. The wind whips at my face with no mercy; spreading bitter cold throughout my body. I shiver - Kirkwall was usually warm and humid. It would be just my luck to arrive on the day when everything changes.

After the ship docks, I navigate my way into the city and find myself looking at rundown buildings and I soon learn that it is not rare to find blood smears everywhere. By the Maker, remind me not to anger anyone here.

There's a tavern nearby. Or at least I think it's a tavern - The Hanged Man could be a name for just about any sort of settlement. Upon setting foot inside I almost choke on the smell; the empowering stench of alcohol makes my stomach churn. I almost feel light headed. Not a good sign.

I do my best not to gag when I ask for a room. I don't know how long I'm going to be staying here. I'm not even entirely sure coming here was a good idea; how exactly do I explain to Cullen that I've crossed the Waking Sea in order to tell him how I feel on the off chance that he feels the same way?

"I'm not givin' ya the room unless ya tell me 'ow long you'll be in there." The bartender protests.

I hand a fistful of silvers over the counter, "Will this be enough to pay with until I make up my mind?" His eyes light up, hungrily counting each coin.

"70 silvers!? Who the hell 'ave you bin robbin'?" He scratches his head in disbelief.

"The room is yours, my friend. You can 'ave one of the suites at the back." I nod my thanks and walk in the direction he pointed out to me.

The suite is... well at least it's tidy. I'm too worn out to be picky over my accommodations after my luxurious stay in Amaranthine. I collapse into the bed, not bothering to close the door and lull into an unsteady sleep.

I have been to the Fade hundreds of times. I have spoken to demons and even other less harmful spirits. I have refused temptation so many times that whenever I encounter a demon, I know that it isn't going to offer me something I haven't already turned down.

Irving once said that because of this, I was making myself known to the beings of the Fade. My will of steel was making me a challenge. A prize. It was a game now - which demon can make me strike a bargain with it. I had always tried to shield my deepest desires from the Fade.

This time I was a fool.

This time I let my heart be known.

This time I am not approached by a demon. It is Cullen. I don't question it for a second. It has been so long since I have seen him - or even dreamed of him, that I couldn't bring myself to drag my eyes away from him. His curly blonde hair, his amber eyes. He looks himself again; gentle and kind. He looks like the Templar who had shined with guilt when he admitted he would serve the Chantry and the Maker, even if it meant killing me should I fall prey to demons.

"Falere." He breathes, gazing at me. I can't speak. I am stunned, perhaps in awe or perhaps I really am just in shock. Let me stay here, I pray to myself. Let me stay here with him.

He smiles then, like he can read my mind. I move closer, inching forward not daring to take my eyes off of him in case he disappears.

We are so close now; my hand could just reach out and stroke his face if I so wished. If I was brave enough.

"It's been so long." I whisper, "I have missed you." He takes my face in his hands, and leans in to kiss my forehead. It is an act of protection and the one thing that makes my guard just melt away. I am safe. I am with him. Nothing bad can happen.

"Stay with me." I beg as he drops his hands from our embrace and begins to turn away. I will it in my mind more than anything.

Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.

But then he is gone and a horned woman stands in his place, her body radiating with a purple shine and her black eyes glistening with that she is named after: desire.

I know it is too late then. It is too late to take my words back; too late to put my mental guard back in place. The demon has gotten her grip on me and I am completely at her mercy. Fear takes my heart, dark and cold. She can take my body and I will become an abomination.

Maker, I am a fool.

But she doesn't take me. She just smiles wickedly and says "Not yet."

I think I am going to die of guilt. Of fear. The fear that I wasn't strong enough because he is my weakness. Going to the Fade is like playing Wicked Grace - you must never reveal your cards. Any weakness will be used against you, something that I had known before but had learned bitterly after last night.

The vile odour reaches my nose and I get my bearings. Images of the foul-smelling tavern come back to me and I sit up and rub my forehead. That's when I notice that my room is bare.

I had unceremoniously chucked my armour on a nearby chair last night. Both the chair and my armour are gone. My coin purse, which was in my breast pocket is also gone.

I have been robbed.

That's when I recall being too lazy to shut the door. Already today I have learned two lessons and I've only been awake for 10 minutes. Lucky me.

All of my coin has been stolen - at least 100 sovereigns in all. My life's earnings from my days of becoming the Hero of Ferelden. I was stupid for carrying it all into a place like this - abundant with low lives and thieves, no doubt.

There goes my passage fee back to Ferelden.

There comes a knock and suddenly a dwarf sticks his head around the door.

"They got you good, didn't they?" Was he... grinning? I have an uneasy feeling that he knows all about my situation.

"Sleeping in this suite never did anyone any good." He continues. "Rich folk who make the mistake of showing their wealth always get sent to here - where they get robbed blind."

So I had been set up by the bartender then. Great.

I get up off the bed and make my way towards the dwarf who offers his hand to me.

"Varric Tethras." He says, grinning again.

I tentatively shake his hand and he looks at me with an amused face, "I'm almost surprised you were brave enough to step foot in here to begin with. I'm guessing that you're laying low for a while?"

I shake my head. "I came here to see a... a friend. He's a Templar, but my ship arrived later than it was supposed to and this place happened to be the first tavern I encountered."

Varric raises his eyebrow, "You have a friend in the Templars? And does he just ignore the staff on your back or do you just wave your hand and he just doesn't seem to notice it?"

I say nothing. I don't know what to say, nor why I should. I have been robbed. For all I know, this dwarf in front of me might have done it.

Although thieves don't tend to give back the money they stole.

Varric hands me a coin purse, it isn't mine and it is a lot lighter but still. I am not used to being given money by random strangers.

I accidentally tell him this.

"I'm not a random stranger. I told you my name, didn't I? Anyway I have a feeling you'll be able to help me out. I've got something I need some help with."

I nod, "Go on."

"My friend is going to the Wounded Coast today, attempting to find a templar who heard a rumour about abominations outside the city. I have a feeling we're gonna need all the magic help we can get. If you come with us, then I'll make sure you get some of the cut."

What have I got to lose? The coin he just gave me won't last long.

"I'll do it."

Varric's friend turns out to be a woman named Ava Hawke. She doesn't exactly welcome me with open arms either. In fact it is quite the opposite.

"Who's she?" Her green eyes look at me accusingly.

"Allow me to introduce Falere Surana," Varric announces. Hawke eyes my staff suspiciously.

"Another mage." She turns to Varric, "I don't like this Varric. I need people I can trust at my back, not random apostates." She glares at me and I shrink back.

But Varric doesn't give up.

"She needs this job Hawke. Newly arrived in the city and she got robbed last night. Don't you remember when you first came here and you had nothing?"

Hawke stares at me again, and sighs.

"Let's just go then."

The rest of the party follows her through the winding paths of the Wounded Coast. Accompanying Hawke alongside myself and Varric are two elves. The first bares white markings, unlike any I have ever seen. But I sense familiar power within them - are they made from...lyrium? He almost seems to glow. I think I hear them call him Fenris.

The other is a petite Dalish elf called Merrill who is a mage like myself. She walks by my side, chatting to me although I find it hard to keep up with what she says. I am just glad that someone in this city is being friendly.

Hawke stops. "Did you hear that?" She hisses. A yell echoes from the distance and our leader starts forward, her bow in hand. We follow her around the corner and my heart sinks when she yells out, "Abomination!"

Sure enough, when Merrill and I eventually catch up, Hawke, Varric, Fenris and a fully armoured Templar are battling the most monstrous abomination I have ever seen.

Magic courses through my veins in anger as I remember what happened in Ferelden's Circle a year ago. I suddenly can't contain it and my staff starts moving in a blur of practised movements as I hit the monster with everything I have. After it finally falls to a well-aimed blow from the Templar, I collapse; my energy spent, leaving me both physically and emotionally drained.

No one notices. They are too busy interrogating the Templar for information. It is just as well.

The Templar removes his helm and offers his thanks to Hawke for her timely assistance.

My blood dances. I would know that voice anywhere. It was the voice I crossed the Waking Sea in order to hear one more time.

I think I just found Cullen. This wasn't how I had planned it.

I panic, and try to slip away quietly. But my elven grace has abandoned me and I stumble to the ground.

Unfortunately everyone notices this time.

"Falere?" Cullen looks like he can hardly believe what he's seeing. Hawke glares at me and I know that she is annoyed over the fact that I have disturbed her interrogation. Maker, I hope she doesn't stain building walls with _my_ blood.

"Cullen." I say. Then at last I can't keep myself going any longer. I know I have used up too much of my energy. I let my anger cloud my judgement and now I am delirious and weak.

The darkness envelopes me as I am dragged back to the Fade.

Maker watch over me.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke's voice wakes me from my sleep.

"You better not be saying what I think you are Varric."

"Come on Hawke! It's not exactly like she's got anywhere else to go."

"She's an apostate!" Hawke countered.

"So was Bethany..."

"Let her stay with Merrill in the alienage."

"Merrill's barely got enough room as it is."

They are arguing about me it would seem. Wonderful.

"So you just want me to let some random person stay in my house?"

"You let Bodahn and Sandal stay." Varric pointed out.

" _They_ do work around the estate."

"I never said that the elf would be staying here free of charge. Please Hawke? This would be a favour to me. I feel responsible for her."

I hear Hawke sigh and I don't blame her. Varric seems to have considered every possible excuse that she could make.

"She can stay for a week – and _you'll_ be explaining all this to Mother."

I hear footsteps coming up stairs. I haven't even given any thought to my surroundings but now that I have I can see that I am in a luxurious bedroom, and that someone has placed me on a four poster bed with silk sheets.

Ahead of me, the door is open and I spy a balcony that I assume overlooks the rest of the hall in the estate. Varric comes into view and enters the bedroom.

"So you're finally awake then." He nodded towards the door.

"I'm assuming you heard the chat Hawke and I just had."

"It was hard not to." I reply, shifting my focus to the wall behind him. I am very self-conscious to the fact that in order to get me here, someone must have carried me across the rough terrain of the Wounded Coast - which is infamous for hiding slavers and bandits in caves - and up through the city.

Maybe Cullen did it. Blood rushes quickly to my cheeks then and Varric notices this almost immediately.

"I'm guessing that you and Curly knew each other then?"

"Curly?"

"You know, that blonde, curly-haired Templar who you couldn't help but swoon over." He winks.

I don't answer. I don't even want to think about what happened.

"So he was the friend who you came to Kirkwall to see. Interesting." There is silence and Varric has a look of amusement on his face that suggests he's about to say something that he knows I won't like.

"He's probably with the rest of the Templars in the Gallows now." Varric's eyes glint with mischief. I know what he wants me to do. I know that he knows exactly what I want to do.

"Want me to help you find him?" He asks as I struggle to my feet; wobbling for a second.

"Easy there, Petal." I wave him off, I am fine. I think.

Did he just call me Petal?

I ask him about it and he chuckles to himself.

"I give nicknames to almost everyone I meet. Think of it as your initiation into Kirkwall."

"But why am I Petal?"

"When we were out there fighting yesterday, I admit you scared the shit outta me. The rage that was in your eyes... well it was more like an inferno of rage, really. I didn't think it was possible to have that much hate in you and still have a somewhat...sane mind. Yet here we are after all that shit happened and the only thing you hate right now is that uncomfortable feeling of not knowing just how the hell you got here."

"That doesn't really answer my question." Damn, he's good. I didn't think a dwarf would be able to read me so easily.

"A petal is soft and vulnerable. It relies on the other petals to help it blend in. It doesn't tell the other petals when it can feel itself falling away from them, it just disappears one day and the flower it came from is never complete again."

He looks at me for a long time, "I'm guessing that you've relied on others a lot in the past. I'd even be willing to bet that no one from Ferelden even knows you're here, do they?"

"No." The single word hangs in the air. I hadn't bothered to tell anyone. When I left, I told Irving that it was Warden business and that I didn't know how long I would be gone for. I wonder how long it will be before I go back. If I even manage to afford passage back, anyhow.

"Anyway," Varric breaks the silence, "If you're satisfied with my philosophical explanation of your nickname, there's some food downstairs... somewhere. Bodahn will get you sorted out." He winks at me again and walks out.

"Varric?" I call out.

He slips his head around the corner again, "Yes, Petal?"

"How _did_ I get here?"

He laughs, "You should ask that curly-haired friend of yours."

I can still hear him laughing outside in the street.

Bodahn turns out to be another dwarf - a merchant - he tells me as I hungrily eat some stew that was set aside for me. Apparently Hawke saved his son Sandal in the Deep Roads a few months ago and now he stays in her estate as her manservant to repay the debt.

I can't say that I understand everyone's gratitude towards Hawke. At first I thought her icy attitude was towards me - an unknown apostate - but the way she talks to everyone who follows her; I'm amazed they still stick around. Especially Merrill. The Dalish elf told me that she had sacrificed everything to restore an Eluvian of the ancient elves and all she needed to fix it was a tool from her Keeper.

Merrill told me that after Hawke had helped her acquire the arulin'holm, she had refused to give it up to Merrill thus rendering all previous sacrifices worthless.

"She doesn't trust mages." Merrill whispered to me when we were at the Wounded Coast.

Yet Merrill was still here, fighting for the same woman who had taken everything from her. I just don't understand.

I finish my stew and clean up after myself; I will not give Hawke a reason to complain about me further. If she has been kind enough to let me stay with her, then I shall be the perfect guest.

Someone comes through the door and for a moment I think it might be Hawke but instead it's a woman with blonde hair wearing a red hood over-

Oh Maker.

Over Templar armour. This is the Knight-Commander.

It's no big deal, right? I did help Hawke sort out some Templar business yesterday. Maybe the Knight-Commander just wanted to thank her in person.

I doubt it though, since according to Varric, Knight-Commander Meredith is barely seen anywhere outside the Gallows.

So why is she here?

Bodahn is in another room cleaning up and Sandal is with him too. It's just Meredith and I in the front hall and it doesn't take her long to notice this.

"I-if you're looking for Hawke..." I stammer.

Her eyes narrow when she sees me.

"So you're the apostate. It would appear the elf was telling the truth."

The elf? Merrill? No, she was too nice and she was a mage herself. Although it could be possible that she ratted me out in order to keep the Templars away from herself. Survival of the fittest, right?

What about that other elf? Fenris. He had made his distrust of mages clear to me from the start. I even heard him call Merrill an abomination waiting to happen.

I snap out of my daydream as the door opens and two more Templars enter with their swords drawn.

Meredith nods at them and points at me.

"Take her away."

Oh Maker.

"What!?" I blurt out, instinctively backing away from them. A mistake.

Meredith also draws her sword and suddenly I am afraid. I was only this afraid when I fought the archdemon and just before my Harrowing.

I have to make this right.

"Wait!" I raise my hands in what was supposed to be a harmless gesture, but then ironically I forget I am a mage. And when mages let their emotions get out of their control, magic soon goes awry.

My hands spark slightly and suddenly, no doubt triggered by my fear. I gasp as I realise what it looks like. The Templars begin to glow slightly with the familiar shine of lyrium and then I can feel my magic draining. I shudder and despite all my best efforts, fall to my knees.

"Take her away!" Meredith snarls.

My hands are bound as a precaution and I am roughly dragged to my feet. I try to co-operate with them but it seems that they don't actually want me to because even though I am walking as fast as I am able, I am still shoved forward with every step I take.

I am taken through a town square that looks much nicer compared to the blood stained buildings that surrounded me just a few nights ago. Merrill explained that I was in Lowtown when I went to the Hanged Man and that all of the nobles lived in Hightown - Hawke had managed to buy back her family's estate. It explains why I can see no blood stains anywhere which is comforting and then I laugh out loud, because I am at the mercy of three Templars and I feel safe.

I get shoved harder for that.

Then we are in the Gallows and I get taken through iron gates to what I assume is the Templar Hall. I know I should be panicking because I am in no way going to be getting through this without a punishment. But I can't bring myself to feel anything.

I am just... empty.

I am escorted through a hallway and I look into one of the offices to see an elven mage sitting at a desk. He also notices me and his eyes flicker with... what? Pity? Anger? Sorrow?

But my gracious escort behind me notices my pause and shoves me - catching me off balance. I end up on the floor again.

By the Maker - I _have_ to stop doing that.

"Get her up." Meredith says coldly. I'd almost forgotten about her.

I am pulled up then, and the Templar slaps me across the face. I cry out in pain as his metal gauntlet makes contact. I can feel beads of blood trickling down my cheek from a cut dangerously close to my eye; almost as if I am crying blood. It would certainly be an appropriate exaggeration.

The elven mage stands up then, and walks over to us. Meredith is prepared.

"This is not your concern, First Enchanter."

He meets her glare with his own, mirroring defiance at each other.

"My concern is that your Templars are showing unnecessary abuse towards a bound mage in your custody."

"She is an apostate Orsino. She must be disciplined."

He clears his throat, "Might you tell me what she has done to warrant such harsh treatment."

"Did you not hear me, First Enchanter? She is an apostate. Such things cannot go unpunished."

"Then allow her to join the Circle and be done with it." He raises his voice.

"I did not ask for your opinion, mage. Go back to your office and stay there." For just a moment, it looks as if Orsino might refuse but instead he looks at me, "I'm sorry."

He returns to his office, scowling.

"Take her to the Knight-Captain's office." Meredith commands, "He can deal with her."

"Yes Knight-Commander." My escorts say. So they can be respectful when they want to be, I muse to myself.

The office is only a few more shoves up the hallway. I have to bite my tongue in order to not snap at them for their unnecessary bullying, but I refrain myself - up until it's time to enter the office.

The first Templar goes in and announces me.

"An apostate, ser. The Knight-Commander says that you're to sentence this one."

And that is when the other Templar practically throws me in through the doorway. That's it. Enough is enough. Mage or not - it is not me that needs disciplining. It's that smart-mouthed, bully behind me.

When I collide with the floor again, my blood boils and I know that the Templars around me can sense it. I feel them try to suppress my power but they do so too late and I do my best to block them out. They will pay for how they treat mages. I lose myself in my rage, driven by despair. My hands begin to form a fireball, despite being in restraints.

Swords are drawn. The ringing of steel brings me back to earth. I regain control and slowly, I manage to calm myself down. Having a blade at your throat can do that to you.

I had lost control again. Lost in rage like when I was against the abomination. I am ashamed of just how easily I have been to anger. I never used to be so sensitive.

"I- I'm so sorry!" I gasp. "I didn't mean to - it was an accident, I swear! I wasn't going to attack-"

The Templar who inspired my rage, snarls at me.

"You knife-eared bitch!" I try not to cry out again when he kicks my kneeling figure to the ground. I wonder if I'm the only one who hears the crack as his boot slams into my ribs.

"Enough, Ser Alrik! Leave us!" At least they listen to their Knight-Captain; bowing to him and then finally leaving.

That's when I remember that the Knight-Captain is actually Knight-Captain Cullen.

Great. Letting him see me almost lose control was not the sort of reunion I had in mind.

Maker watch over me.


	4. Chapter 4

At first he doesn't say anything. He was standing behind his desk when I arrived but as soon as Ser Alrik and the other Templar left, he closes the door before coming to my assistance.He helps me up but I cry out as I try to stand. It would seem that Ser Alrik did a good job at breaking my ribs. Black dots blot my vision and I start feeling light-headed, but Cullen lets me put my arm around his neck and he helps me to his chair.

"Wait here." He says and strides out of the room and I laugh bitterly to myself. Where would I go exactly? I'm not in any condition to run away from Templars. I sigh. I don't know what Cullen will do. Will he allow me to join the Circle and avoid execution? Or will he send me to the gallows within the Gallows? Then there is the Rite of Tranquility to consider, but surely he wouldn't do that to me?

I pray silently to the Maker that somewhere inside of Knight-Captain Cullen are the feelings for me that he once was too shy to act on.

He returns quickly with medical supplies. Huh? What would he know about healing? I have to hide my smile. This could be interesting.

He had the sense to bring water, at least.

Cullen brings out some fresh cloth and soaks it. Then he turns to me and attempts to clean the cut beneath my eye. It probably should have been obvious from the start that it is particularly hard to master the _gentle_ art of healing whilst you are wearing heavy Templar gauntlets.

I flinch.

"Sorry!" He says quickly and I attempt to take the cloth from him.

"Let me." I make short work of the cut; gently dabbing at it and allowing the warm water to soothe the sting. Then I apply a small poultice to quicken the healing.

While I do this, Cullen is watching me intently. Once I notice this, my cheeks flame; matching the colour of my hair and he also begins to blush.

Just say something! I want to scream. Anything!

But he won't and I don't know if it's because he just doesn't know what to say or if he is just disgusted by me - because I refused to back his idea of executing First Enchanter Irving and the rest of the surviving mages after Uldred's rebellion.

So I suppose that leaves starting a conversation up to me.

"Is Ser Alrik always like that?"

His eyes catch mine for a moment and all in can see is guilt. The Knight-Captain clearly doesn't agree with his fellow Templar's abusive ways.

"Most of the time. When he isn't trying to turn every mage in Kirkwall with the Rite of Tranquility." So he really is just a cruel person, and not just a grumpy person having a bad day.

Silence creeps up on us again.

"I'm sorry he hurt you." Cullen says softly. I look at him and have to resist the urge not to run away because right now, all I am reminded of is the dream I had. 'Stay with me' I remember myself thinking. And that's all I can think of now, because he is still close to me; he hasn't moved from where he had kneeled down to help me.

Why hasn't he asked me anything? Surely he must be curious as to why I'm here. He is probably the only person in Kirkwall who could recognise me as the Hero of Ferelden - does he not wonder why I am not with the Grey Wardens?

He might not have asked anything but his curiosity shines through his eyes. Then I understand. He has questions, but he doesn't feel it is his place to ask them.

I'll show him.

"Are you angry with me?" That gets his attention, and a blush.

"What? I...n-no of course not."

My heart secretly soars.

"I was just wondering, since, you know - what with the stuff that happened in Ferelden..."

"No." He says more firmly this time. But the subject changes quickly after that and I don't blame him.

"Why are you here, Falere?" It feels so good to hear him say my name again. Like it is... meant to be.

I don't know why I was so eager to have him ask me that question. I can hardly confess my feelings to him here in his office - especially when he is supposed to be sentencing me to a chosen fate.

But I won't lie to him either.

"Greagoir told me that you were transferred here. I just wanted to see how you were after all this time."

Cullen stares at me, like he doesn't know what to say. He probably doesn't.

A few more painful silences pass until he slowly begins to process everything.

"You came to Kirkwall..." He starts.

"To see you." I finish, it feels good to be honest; even if I haven't exactly told him all of the truth yet.

But he just sighs.

"Falere..."

"I know it's been a while," I say. "And I know that you probably don't trust me - especially after I almost lost it with your Templars; but we were once friends - at least, that's what it appeared to me when we were in Ferelden. Are we still friends?"

The question hangs in the air for a long time.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

 **Cullen**

I never thought I would see her again after she was taken away by the Grey Warden in the Circle tower. It was that thought alone that made me realise just how lonely a Templar's life really is. But then she helped purge the tower of demons and abominations during the Blight; speaking out against me when I demanded that the survivors be killed in case they had also been possessed. She had changed so much then.

We both had.

We said our goodbyes after Irving had pledged his mages to her cause - neither of us mentioned the state I had been in when she found me outside the Harrowing chamber and I saw her.

The demons had been trying to break me for days, using my memories against me. My memories of her. I still see it all in my dreams, to this day. The nightmares have never gone away.

First the desire demons made me see what I had secretly wanted for years - a future with her. I saw images in my head but they were more than just images. I could feel them, like I really was just thinking back to good times and remembering the joy captured in each moment.

I saw us saying wedding vows; in both the common tongue and elven. I felt the happiness as we sealed them with a kiss.

I saw myself teaching my daughter and son how to defend themselves. I felt the proudness as they sparred together; executing the techniques I had taught them perfectly.

And I saw my family get slaughtered by darkspawn and I felt broken and empty when the monsters came for me.

But then the demon would take all the images away and it was just me trapped behind a magical barrier. My son and daughter who I had loved did not exist. I was not married to the red haired, elven beauty. In fact she was miles away and I was never going to see her again.

It almost broke me. But I stayed strong. I endured.

And the demons made me relive the memories, regardless of whether or not I slept. I was trapped almost 24/7 in a recurring nightmare - a lucid dream - and I only managed to resist the images for a few minutes at a time.

When she came through the door and looked at me from through the barrier, I thought it was just another demon. Only this one imitated her kindness perfectly and offered to help me get out of my trap. But that was when I told the demon to begone, because no matter how deep they delved into my mind, they would not have me.

"Cullen, let me help you – please!" she had begged. But I knew how this was going to go. The moment I admitted that that was real, the young woman in front of me would transform into a demon and laugh at me. I had closed my eyes, willing it to leave like I had hundreds of times before.

Only when I opened them again she was still there. I prayed to the Maker and Andraste that this was real and not a demon-plagued vision I was seeing.

"Is it really you?" I asked.

And then she inched closer towards the barrier that contained me and her emerald green eyes pierced mine.

"Yes." she whispered.

After the tower had been purged, she took her leave again. She had wanted to help me but I didn't wholly trust anyone or anything to be real. I had pushed her away because she was a mage and I had seen what they were truly capable of. I regretted my words to her after she had left. It was probably going to be the last time I ever saw her and my last words to her haunted me.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" she had found me after the battle with Uldred. I remember letting out a hollow laugh.

"You're a mage. Mages don't help - they corrupt and lie and destroy _everything_ good in the world." Her eyes had flashed with hurt and she had left. Just like that. I hadn't thought I would see her again after that. She wouldn't return to the Circle and even if she did, she wouldn't want to speak to me again.

The Maker has an excellent sense of humour.

She had been on the Wounded Coast with Hawke when I was attacked by the abomination and after I struck the killing blow, Hawke had swarmed me for information. But then the sound of someone falling to the ground put me on alert. One of Hawke's companions had fallen to the ground and after seeing the staff upon her back, I prepared to draw my sword again – thinking that she was about to become an abomination.

Then I realised who it was.

"Falere?" I said in disbelief. She looked exhausted and she could barely bring herself to say my name before she blacked out.

Much to the dwarf's amusement, I had to carry her in my arms back to Hightown while he laughed at me – insisting to his friends that: "Curly was blushing." I had left her in Hawke's estate, whilst trying to figure out why our paths had crossed yet again.

And now I am supposed to punish her for being an apostate. She is talking again, her cheeks matching her crimson hair with each word she says.

"Are we still friends?" Still friends? Were we ever friends? Back in the Circle we seldom spoke and when we did I was always a stuttering fool. I had cared for her then. Maybe I still do. But what of the words I said to her so long ago? Can a Templar and a mage truly be friends?

I am willing to try, especially if she has travelled so far to see me. I know she is a good woman and it is this reason that causes me to ignore my Templar instincts that are screaming at me to execute her.

"We are friends." I say and her eyes light up and then she winces, resisting the urge to clutch her side.

"I'm fine." She says, seeing the concern upon my face. Her hands begin to glow a soft blue and she presses them to her side, concentrating deeply. I can see that healing herself with magic gives her an uncomfortable feeling when she is sitting in front of a Templar, but I do nothing. She will not do anything harmful; she is still the Hero of Ferelden after all.

The glow fades from her hands.

"Is this the part when you smite me with your Templar powers?" she half jokes. She's feeling better at least. Her words remind me of why she is here, however. I stand up and pace the room; unsure of what to do with her. Falere has forgiven me and for that I am grateful; my heart grows heavy at the thought that I now have to repay that by punishing her – a punishment that I would not even have to give had she not come to Kirkwall in order to find me.

If I was to allow her to join the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall then it would not be long before Meredith made an excuse to kill her and if that happened then Falere would be trapped in a city full of Templars with no way to escape. To send Falere to the Circle now would only delay the inevitable, and the little time that she did spend in the Circle would be full of Templar abuse. Ser Alrik was frequently stationed to watch the mages and he would take pleasure in bullying her again – and I wouldn't always be around to stop him.

Meredith would expect me to send the mage to the Gallows; no doubt this is all a test so that she can decide whether or not I am weak to the influence of mages. I am not entirely sure what I hope to accomplish – do I wish to spare Falere's life? I shake my head angrily – of course I want to save her from death; she is the Hero and she deserves more than a disgraced death where she will be remembered only as an apostate.

Which leaves the Rite of Tranquillity, which would rob her of magic and her connection to the Fade and render her an empty, emotionless husk. That would certainly be a poor way to apologize to her. Yet I cannot see another way that does not end with her death. She has always been so _proud_ of her magic – even in Ferelden's Circle where she was Irving's own apprentice, she had been proud to learn but eager to help others. Should she become involved in the inevitable conflict between Templars and mages; her voice would serve as one of reason – and she had to be herself in order to use it.

So what can I possibly do?

 _Let her go._ It's the unsaid option that has become more and more like the only real one. I wouldn't be alone if I did try to help an apostate escape. Ser Thrask had made it clear to many that he supported the mages. If I ask the older Templar for help, Thrask would probably offer it gladly.

But I am Knight-Captain and if I was caught helping a mage escape, Meredith would not be kind in her sentence and Falere would then be thought of as a dangerous blood mage. Unless…

I have a plan, and it just might work. Falere will not be left at the mercy of Meredith.

"Here's the plan…" This will work. It _has_ to.

Maker watch over me.


	5. Chapter 5

After Cullen and I had made amends to our friendship and I called attention to the fact that he had yet to carry out Meredith's orders, he went quiet for a painfully long time. I didn't understand how long it could take; there were only three options to choose from – abuse in the Circle, death in the Gallows or 'life' as a Tranquil – but still he stayed silent for what seemed an eternity.

Would Circle life really be so bad? I suppose it would depend on the Templars – I could handle that Ser Alrik, but were all the Kirkwall Templars like him? That wouldn't be so pleasant.

When Cullen eventually gets around to saying something, I expect for him to start off with an apologetic look followed by a: "I'm sorry but you [insert my life sentence here]" but instead he says:

"Here's the plan." I did not expect this. Sentencing me to life in the Circle is not a plan. Sentencing me to execution is not a plan. Making me Tranquil is not a plan. They are all solutions.

So what in Andraste's name does he have to plan with me?

"Sorry?" I say; perhaps I misheard him.

"I'm going to help you escape." I am _definitely_ hearing things. The Knight-Captain wouldn't help an apostate escape from the Order – would he?

I listen to his plan – it would certainly work, but I make a few changes.

"I'll never get out of here if I look like a mage." I point out.

"What do you suggest then?"

"I need a Templar uniform." I have the rest of this plan in my mind but I hesitate over whether or not I should share it with him.

He senses this, "I'm guessing you have a plan on how to acquire one?"

I bite my lip, "I do," He raises his eyebrows, "But…?"

"But you're not going to like it."

"Humour me."

"If you give me your full set of armour then I'll be able to get out of the Templar Hall before anyone notices anything."

"And just how am I supposed to convince the Knight-Commander that I had nothing to do with your escape if you walked out of the Hall wearing my armour?"

This is the part he isn't going to like. I don't like the idea of it either but it can't be helped if this is going to work at all.

"I know a spell. It will just send you to sleep for an hour or two. That should convince the others that I used magic to send you to sleep and then stole your armour." He doesn't shut down the idea immediately like I had feared. Instead he rubs the back of his neck, thinking over my idea.

"Alright then." he says at last, "Although I don't know how well my armour is even going to fit you."

The fact that he is more worried about how well his Templar uniform will fit me rather than the spell I will cast on him makes me laugh. It's almost like having the old Cullen back, only if anything it's better. I feel more like a child plotting with a friend to get away with something naughty as opposed to actually being an apostate and conspiring with an old friend to escape from the Chantry's laws.

"I'll make some adjustments." I say as he removes the pieces, quickly and efficiently. It's strange to look at him with a straight face after he's finished. He wears only a leather jerkin underneath but it is the first time that I've seen him without the Sword of Mercy being displayed on his person.

Once it becomes clear that I am far too small for anything to fit properly, I think desperately back to my days in the Circle. I recall remembering a shrinking spell at some point; hopefully it works. After immense concentration, I manage to make the armour set considerably smaller.

"Time to get dressed up now!" I say brightly, despite the fact that I have no idea why I've even gone along with this plan. If Fenris was the one who made my existence known to the Templars then it meant that I couldn't go back to Hawke or Varric. I wasn't going to step foot back in the Hanged Man again. But what about Merrill? She must live in the alienage and if I could find her than maybe she would help me. If she was Dalish than maybe she could help me find her clan. I had heard stories of 'flat ears' going to join the Dalish – maybe they would take me under their wing. It was as good a plan as any.

"I must admit, if you weren't carrying a staff then I might even mistake you for a Templar." Cullen's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Asides from the ears, you mean." I joke, and then I have a thought. My staff. I won't be able to take it with me. Sighing, I discard it. Cullen notices my frustration and then offers me his sheathed sword on its belt.

Unlike his armour which was replaced after the incident in Ferelden, Cullen had kept his sword. In fact, it was probably the closest thing he had to something of sentimental value. I couldn't take it from him.

"No!" I protest but he cuts me off.

"Without your staff you won't be as powerful. Besides, not carrying a sword is about as suspicious as not wearing the armour – not to mention you'll then make an excellent target for the low-lives in the streets."

I hesitate still and he takes my hand and presses the cold steel into my palm.

"Take it as a gift then. I saw you fight in the tower; you'll use it well." he says.

"Thank you." I whisper. Once the sword is in place, my disguise is almost complete. Cullen holds his helmet in his hands. The final piece. He passes it to me and for a few seconds we just gaze at each other.

"We're really doing this." He says.

I will never be able to express my gratitude towards him. But I will find him again, I vow. Hopefully a few years from now Meredith will have forgotten my face.

"Thank you for everything Cullen." I smile at him, and go to put on the helmet but suddenly he reaches forward and stops me.

"Wait." he says and I look at him curiously. I swear I see him blush and hesitate before he leans forward and kisses my forehead.

"May the Maker watch over you." Startled by his forwardness, I smile at him again and place the large helm on my head.

"Are you ready?" I ask, willing the magic to my fingers.

He kneels on the floor, "Do it."

I let my magic flow over him, allowing sleep to take him. I try my best to think of happiness while I do it. Perhaps it will rub off on the magic and he'll have a decent night's sleep. He couldn't hide his tiredness from me, despite his best efforts.

When he is asleep upon the floor, I take a deep breath and step into the hallway outside. It is empty. I try to walk down towards the door as normally as I can. I just have to get past the Knight-Commander's door and the First Enchanter's door, out through the courtyard and then across the sea into the city again.

I don't know if the Maker himself is watching over me or if I am just extremely lucky because I manage to get through the hallway and out of the Templar courtyard without incident. A few Templars are around the courtyard but few pay attention to me. I start getting nervous after I step out into the openness of the Gallows but once again no one takes much notice of me, save for a few Circle mages who watch me wearily as I pass.

I want to yell out in triumph as I make it to the Kirkwall docks. I made it! Now I just have to make it to the alienage. I get lost several times before I catch sight of the top of a beautiful tree. Childhood memories of the Denerim alienage come back to me – I remember there was a tree like this one, only it wasn't as beautiful – probably from the times that humans had tried to ruin it. I can hear the elves though, children playing in the street and elven merchants attempting to make a living. It's much busier than the street where I am now, which is empty.

I spy out the stairs that lead down into the alienage when all of a sudden my muscles are frozen and I can no longer move. For a split second I think that the Templars have finally found me but I mentally shrug off that theory. This is a paralysis spell – the work of a mage, not a Templar.

I suppose wearing a Templar uniform in a city where tension between mages and Templars is strained at best was going to have repercussions. Fortunately for me I am not actually a Templar so in a few seconds my strength will come back to me and I'll be able to reverse the effects…there.

I break myself free and turn in the direction of the gasp of disbelief. A mage stands behind me wearing blue robes; his face looks oddly familiar.

"How did you do that!" he demands, and then the answers to my question comes back to me.

"Anders!?"

Maker watch over me - it would seem my past has caught up with me already.


	6. Chapter 6

Anders eyes widen when he recognises my voice, "Warden-Commander Falere? What are you doing?" He shifts nervously on the spot.

"I have a friend who lives in the alienage – lets go there to talk." So I'm guessing he didn't come and join the Circle after we parted ways nine months ago.

We descend down the stair way into the alienage and I follow Anders to a house in the corner of the compound.

"In here." he gestures for me to go first. Ever the gentleman.

Inside, Merrill is cleaning what little furniture she possesses inside her home. The house is in shambles, and above me I spy a hole in the roof.

So Anders knows Merrill as well? This is a small world, it seems.

"Merrill, don't freak out." Anders says, coming in behind me and for a moment I don't understand what he means. But then the Dalish elf turns and sees me and her eyes widen fearfully.

"Anders? Why is there a Templar here?" I'm still wearing the helmet, I realise.

"Commander, do you think you could take off the helmet at least, so I can persuade my friend that you aren't here for her?" I take the helmet off, putting it on a table nearby. I can feel the confusion in the room.

"Falere? What are you doing here?" and "Wait – you know the Commander?" followed by: "She's a Commander? Is she a Templar?" all stack up on top of me. I have questions that I need answering but they have so many of their own that it will be hard to leave without making sure everything is explained.

I turn to Merrill first, hoping to reassure her of my intentions. If I wish to acquire her aid than I shall tell her the truth. All of it.

"My name is Warden-Commander Falere Surana," I say. "Some call me the Hero of Ferelden." Well that's done it. Her clan arrived from Ferelden just over a year ago when they fled the Blight. From the look on her face, she now knows exactly who I am and what I did.

"Y-you! You stopped the Blight!" she gushes. "Please – sit down! I have to hear this!" Behind me Anders chuckles and I swing around to look at him and he shrugs, a playful smile on his face.

"I have questions too, don't worry." he says.

I sit opposite Merrill at her small table and wait for the questioning to begin; whilst Anders observes from afar; no doubt watching just for pure amusement. His smile fades quickly however when Merrill asks her first question.

"You're from Ferelden's Circle Tower aren't you? Anders told me he was from there too – did you know him? He won't tell me what it was like or what _he_ was like before he became a Grey Warden." I bet he wouldn't. Anders had hated it there ever since he had been brought there when he was twelve. I could tell her that he reminded me of a typical spoiled noble – storming around the tower that he had made clear he hated, making life difficult for everyone who wished to study; hiding tomes from the enchanters, giving the Templars grief but nothing serious enough to punish him.

He made six escape attempts whilst I was there – being brought back each time.

When he had been captured by Templars after his seventh escape, they had brought him to Vigil's Keep to briefly re-supply. That was when the darkspawn had invaded and his captors had been killed. Afterwards when he had helped me drive the rest of the darkspawn out; another Templar officer who arrived with Alistair had attempted to take him away. That was when I used the Right of Conscription; pledging his allegiance to the Grey Wardens.

I briefly tell Merrill this story, instead of the one involving the Tower. It's a loophole at least and she doesn't seem to notice.

"So _that's_ how you became a Grey Warden then." she says, turning to Anders.

"Is that all you wanted to ask?" he says in disbelief. "She saved the world from the archdemon and you ask her about _me_?"

Merrill nods, "There are whole books written about the Hero of Ferelden. But not about you. I was curious, is all."

"Well it's my turn then." he says, "Why did I find you on the streets wearing the uniform of the Templars?"

"It was a disguise," I explain. "I'm still an apostate, with or without my position in the Grey Wardens."

He shakes his head, disgusted. "The fact that the world would happily throw _you_ of all people into a Circle is proof that it needs to change."

"I'm still open to the influence of demons," I counter. "Being a Warden doesn't change that."

"Then why did you run away then?" he asks. "If you managed to get a Templar uniform then I'm guessing you had inside help. Was it Thrask again? He was attempting to help mages a while back."

"No, it wasn't him." I don't want to sell Cullen out, but I promised my friends answers. Besides if Anders knows that Cullen helped me, then he might be merciful if they ever crossed paths. If I had learned anything after recruiting the surly mage, it was that he was _very_ passionate about freedom for mages.

"Knight-Captain Cullen was commanded by Meredith to choose my fate. He came up with a plan to free me instead, and here I am." Anders looks surprised at first but then snorts.

"Cullen? You mean Cullen the Templar from Ferelden? As in Cullen the stuttering fool? The Cullen that _was_ _in love with you_?!" Of course the rumour managed to reach his ears as well. I think it was the closest thing the Circle had to a scandal and everyone loved it – everyone, that is, except for myself and Cullen.

"He wasn't in love with me!" I protest. Cullen had always been nicer to the mages than most – he just happened to be nicer to me above all others, that didn't mean he was in love with me. It was just a crush - nothing serious.

Maker's breath – we barely spoke!

But Anders eyes are dancing now, and I know from past experiences that he isn't going to let this go anytime soon.

"So I suppose he just saved that ridiculous stutter for you then?" he laughs. "What was it he said to you after your Harrowing?"

 _"_ _Oh you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but… well you're not."_ Anders continues, imitating Cullen's warm voice with surprising accuracy:

 _"_ _I mean, you can come and talk to me_ _anytime_ _if you want."_ he grins childishly.

"You were _eavesdropping_!" I glare at him accusingly but Anders isn't fazed.

"Half the mages on that floor were _eavesdropping_!" he teases.

"I just love hearing forbidden love stories!" Merrill sighs, happily. I am about to protest again but I give up. They've all made their own assumptions and arguing with them only gives the Templars more time to find me.

"If you're done with the questions now…" and Anders responds by laughing again.

"…Then I have a few things of my own that I need to ask." I look at Merrill.

"Meredith mentioned that an elf had told her to find me in Hawke's estate. Do you have any idea who it might have been?" The elf looks horrified as I tell her of my suspicions about Fenris.

"He never liked mages," Merrill says, "But I _never_ expected him to sell out one of Hawke's companions – no matter how temporary you might have been."

"I have nowhere to go now, however." I say.

"You can stay with me!" Merrill says brightly and I feel guilty as I decline her offer.

"It's too dangerous for me to stay in Kirkwall. They might have discovered that I've escaped already. I need to leave. I was hoping to take sanctuary with the Dalish and learn their ways so that I might become one of them, in time." Merrill tries to hide her disappointment and guilt stabs me once again. She must feel very alone in the alienage by herself; away from her clan.

"I'm sure Keeper Marethari would take you under her wing." she replies. "I was her First up until I left. There are no other elves in the clan who have developed a magical ability. I haven't heard of a 'flat-ear' who re-joined the Dalish and was given a major role in their clan. But the clans don't gather for years yet, however." she looks at me thoughtfully.

"Marethari will be desperate to replace me. If you were to go to her - well, you've studied in one of the Circles. She wouldn't have to train you from scratch and you'd be able to learn our ways quickly."

Anders stares at us both. "Do you really think this can work? The clan won't stay on Sundermount forever. Eventually they will move away."

"Good." I say. "The longer I stay in Kirkwall, the more likely I am to be found." Anders still looks doubtful but if he has an opinion on the subject, he doesn't share it.

"I'll just be going then." he says. "I have things to discuss with Fenris now, it seems. About _loyalty._ "

"Your secret is safe with me, Commander," he adds, turning towards the door.

"Farewell." He disappears back out into the busy alienage.

Merrill gets up from her chair and grabs her staff from the corner, "Well that settles it then. We'll leave right now."

My new life with the Dalish awaits.

Maker watch over me. Those words have never sounded so ironic until now.


	7. Chapter 7

The trek up Sundermount proves to be harder than I initially thought it would be – Merrill and I dispose of giant spiders that wander across our path and not long after that we come across a small group of bandits who scatter quickly after we demonstrate our magical abilities on their leader.

All falls quiet and even Merrill says nothing – which makes me think that she is perhaps holding back all of her opinions about my plan to join the Dalish. I realise now that if her clan does accept me, and if Marethari eventually decides to take me on as her apprentice, then I will be replacing Merrill and she will then be unable to return. The Dalish always made sure that there were not too many elves with magical ability in a single clan at a time, in order to attract less attention from the Templars.

"The camp is just up ahead, now." Merrill says and I take it as an opportunity to put my mind at rest.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Merrill?" I ask carefully, "I don't want to impose on you or your clan if asking for refuge puts your people in danger."

She shakes her head and smiles ruefully, "I'm glad you seek to learn the ways of the Creators, and maybe this will make Keeper Marethari stop asking me to return whenever I visit with Hawke."

"You said before that you were restoring an Eluvian," I say, "But I'm guessing that wasn't your only reason for leaving."

I hear her sigh, "I… had to, well, talk to a spirit. In order to… cleanse the glass of the Blight sickness. It meant I had to summon a spirit – or a demon, as my clan says. I used blood magic and after my clan found out, well… everyone started looking at me like I was a monster and the Keeper just kept giving me her disappointed look all the time."

"So you just left?" I ask, surprised. Merrill didn't seem to be the sort of person who would use blood magic, but she didn't seem proud of her actions either. But if cleansing the mirror was necessary in order to restore it, then maybe it was a sacrifice worth taking.

"The Keeper and I had argued about the Eluvian for weeks. She said it was best left alone. _But it is a Keeper's job to remember_ , I kept telling her. Then she told me that someone was coming to carry out a deed for Asha'bellanar; that was when I told her that I wanted to leave with them."

"That was Hawke." I realise, and she just nods.

We walk the rest of the winding mountain pass in silence. As we come around the final turn in the pass, I see up ahead stone statues of a wolf. I remember similar statues being outside the Dalish encampment in the Brecilian Forest – the clan that Zathrian once led before he gave his life in order to end his curse.

A scout calls out to us as we draw gradually closer to the edge of the camp with the stone wolves, staring at us cautiously.

"Why are you here Merrill?" the hunter asks coldly, "The shem is not with you, is she?"

My friend ignores the way her fellow Dalish glares at her with mistrusting eyes. She points to me instead, "Falere wishes to learn the old ways of our people, as Pol once did." The hunter stares at me, as if judging my worth.

"I will take her to the Keeper." she says, "You can go." but Merrill doesn't accept this.

"I will go with her. Do not forget that I am still Dalish, Tahlya – and once I would have been your Keeper." Tahlya shrugs, "Let the Keeper ask you to leave then. It makes no difference."

We follow her into the camp, where Merrill receives fearful looks from almost everyone. Ahead of us, an older elf stands, watching her clan with wise eyes that eventually come to gaze upon us. I suppose this would be Keeper Marethari then.

Tahyla bows her head in a respectful manner, "Merrill brings a flat-ear who wishes to learn our ways, Keeper."

Marethari turns her gaze to me. "And who might you be, child?"

"I am Falere, Keeper Marethari. I am from-" But then Merrill cuts me off.

"May we speak to you of this alone, Keeper?" she asks, aware that Tahlya is still standing behind her. Marethari nods, "You may go back to your duties, da'len." she says to the hunter, who heads back towards the front of the camp.

"Now then," Marethari starts again, "I suppose there is something you wish to say, Merrill?"

"Falere wants to learn our ways, Keeper," says Merrill, "But she is… _gifted_." I suppose that's _one_ way to describe the ability that allows me to turn my enemies into piles of crystalized ash that spark with electricity.

"I see." Marethari studies me carefully, "And I suppose you were sent to the Circle, after your talents were revealed?" I nod.

"I was born in the Denerim alienage in Ferelden and I was taken to the Circle of Magi when I was six."

"You were taken at such a young age!" Merrill bursts out, "Was your family ever allowed to visit you?"

"No mage is allowed to make contact with their family once they have been taken," I say, "Although they are permitted to write the occasional letter. My mother wrote to me often – I think she felt guilty."

"Why is that?" Marethari asks, looking as if her mind is drifting among her thoughts.

"Because she was a mage and she couldn't save me from the Templars when they eventually found out about my talents." I haven't thought about my mother in a long time. I can't remember much about her other than her face, which gets blurrier and blurrier each time I try to recall it. She had my red hair and her face always looked kind. She had markings on her face as well. In fact, they reminded me of the vallaslin that the Dalish have – could my mother have once been one of them?

Merrill asks another question, "How did your mother not get sent to the Circle if she lived in the alienage? Wouldn't the Templars have found her?"

I shrug, "I don't know. I remember she had markings on her face – like yours. Maybe she was Dalish and left the clan for life in the alienage. You aren't the first Dalish elf who I've seen in Kirkwall."

"Your mother," Marethari says, "Did she look like you? Can you remember your family name?"

"It's Surana," I reply. Why is this important? Is Marethari trying to figure out if she knew my mother, or at least what clan she might have belonged to if she had been Dalish?

"Valanna." The older elf says softly. "Your mother was called Valanna." That was quick. Either the Keeper has an amazing memory or something else is going on. Merrill senses this as well.

"Did you know her mother, Keeper?"

"I did." she replies, a sad smile playing on her lips, "Valanna was once my First, a long time ago. Before you came to us, Merrill."

She continues on, having seen the spark of interest that flames in Merrill and I.

"Valanna left the clan while we were in Ferelden, almost twenty years ago. She dreamed of settling down and raising a family in one place – even if that meant in an alienage away from her clan."

"We were worried for her – we thought it was unwise of her to leave the safety of her clan when she had magic. If she was caught by the Templars then she would never be able to return to us. But she insisted and so she left."

"She returned to the clan a year later and we saw she was with child. Valanna said she had married and that she was happy. After she left for the alienage once more, we never heard from her again."

"So she _was_ Dalish." I muse. "Does that mean I can join the clan?"

"Perhaps." Marethari says, "You will need to learn our ways. I have never heard of a Keeper having an outsider as her First, but if you have the gift and you earn your vallaslin, then I will take you on as my apprentice."

Her words comfort me more than I can say. It's almost as if I really have found my home – and despite my separation from my mother at an early age; knowing that she was Dalish and once part of this clan makes me feel closer to both. I don't feel like a complete intruder.

"Where do I start?"

 **Cullen**

I don't think I've ever seen Meredith so angry before. I did not expect for her to react lightly when I eventually woke from my sleep. I find it hard to maintain a serious expression however when I have awoken from a nightmare-free sleep – the first I have had since before Uldred's uprising.

My hands are bound and I am on my knees; several of my brothers are circled around me in the open area of the Templar courtyard with their blades drawn and pointed at me; directly in front of me is the Knight-Commander, who seems to be getting increasingly paranoid about the situation by each second.

"Knight-Captain!" she barks, "I gave you the task of sentencing a dangerous apostate and instead she managed to escape." Meredith turns to face the large assembly of Templars behind her.

"Tell me, brothers and sisters," she begins, "What hope is there to rid Kirkwall of dangerous apostates if they manage to escape from our sanctuary?"

"The apostate who escaped from the Hall used powerful enchantments upon our Knight-Captain – and bewitchery of twice that strength was then used to walk out of this courtyard and into the city!" I freeze. I think I know where this is going and it is not good.

"We allowed a maleficar to exploit our weaknesses and no good will come of it! Was she a spy? Or did she allow herself to be captured so that she might poison the mind of one of our own?" Meredith points at me. Of course she would point at me.

"My mind is my own, Knight-Commander." I say as calmly as I am able. Until recently, my loyalty for Meredith has never wavered – but now all I can see is a paranoid woman with a sword: a dangerous combination.

"I want to believe that, Cullen." she replies, "But the Order cannot risk it – if you have fallen to the influence of blood magic then you will destroy us and chaos will be inevitable."

"Knight-Commander Meredith, wait!" I look up to see Keran, one of the youngest in the Order step forward quickly. She stares at him coldly.

"Why do you interrupt?"

I silently pray that he doesn't say what I think he will.

"I know a way ser, a way you can tell if he's been possessed." She narrows her eyes.

"Explain yourself quickly, Keran." The young Templar steps forward again, looking like he is about to lose his nerve. But he doesn't.

"Serrah Hawke knows how to test if there is a demon inside someone! S-she tried it out on me so that she knew whether or not there was a demon inside of me." Maker preserve you Keran, I pray. I had not told Meredith of the events that had occurred with him and Wilmod, fearing that her mind would be easy prey for paranoia again. It would take a miracle now in order for Meredith to not execute both myself and Keran as a precaution. If I was to die knowing that I had helped the Hero of Ferelden escape from Meredith's clutches, then I would be reassured; but for Keran to die defending me? I cannot allow this to happen.

Before I can think of something to say that might distract Meredith from Keran, the courtyard is visited by a small party of outsiders who I recognise as Hawke and I see that she is accompanied by the two elves and the dwarf who had been with her on the Wounded Coast before.

"You are not permitted to be here." Meredith says, walking towards the timely intruders.

"I'm here because I have questions," Hawke snaps, "And I don't care about your title, because I _will_ get my answers." The tension between the two women is enough to make the entire assembly disperse – with each of them giving the other a murderous glare, something I find surprising as Hawke has made it clear that she supports the Order wholeheartedly.

Meredith makes no attempt to keep the Templars from disappearing and soon I am the only spectator – bound and kneeling on the courtyard stone.

"As I understand it," the other woman continues, "You _broke into my estate_ and _kidnapped a Grey Warden._ " Meredith just laughs.

"And who told you this? The elf was no Grey Warden – these are just convenient lies no doubt spread by more conspirators!" That is when I catch sight of another figure behind Hawke – a blonde-haired man wearing robes who appears to have been waiting for Meredith to reply with what she does.

"I told Hawke because it is true. _The elf_ had orders to come to Kirkwall where she then offered her aid to Hawke and Knight-Commander Cullen to track down a group of blood mages!"

The Knight-Commander interrupts again, "If she _had_ been a Grey Warden then she would not have attempted to attack me when I ordered my Templars to take her into custody."

"She was delirious!" The dwarf says, "We took her to Hawke's estate so she could rest. How exactly was she supposed to respond when a bunch of guys with swords barge in?

"By submitting to our authority!" The Templar snaps, "I notice that your elven companion – the one who told me of her whereabouts in the first place – hasn't said anything. Perhaps he should explain himself."

The elven warrior steps forward then and a flicker of anger sparks up in me – so _he_ was the one who had started this mess with his meddling.

"I apologize, Knight-Commander. I did not realise that the mage I had reported to you was a Grey Warden. If I had known then I would not have wasted your time with the information."

"It would not have changed anything!" Meredith angrily interjects, "The Blight is over! To let mages walk Thedas freely just because they claim to be a Warden is ignorant! All mages _must_ be contained within Circles."

It is then that I am noticed for the first time by Hawke. I don't know whether I should be relieved or not about that.

"And now you have bound the Knight-Captain like a criminal!" she says, her voice dripping with unsaid accusations.

"It was necessary." Meredith hisses, "He let himself succumb to the influence of blood magic!"

"It was not blood magic, Knight-Commander." I manage to find my voice in all of this confusion, with the hope of making some of it easier to understand.

They all turn their attention to me and I try to make the best of it.

"It would have been easier for her to kill me but she didn't. She had lost much of her strength from Ser Alrik's abuse, yet she decided to use her magic to send me to sleep instead."

"Exactly." Hawke gives Meredith one last defiant glare that sends the Knight-Commander storming back off towards the Hall, fuming.

"Do not think this is over!" she declares, before disappearing into the Hall.

The dwarf walks over to me and cuts away the rope that binds me, smirking.

"You have my sincere gratitude, Serah Hawke." I stand up and approach her. I am tempted to explain what really happened to her but the scowl on her face makes me change my mind.

"Don't thank me, Cullen." she gestures to her dwarven companion, the fair-haired man and the quiet Dalish elf beside her. "These three all traded in favours to get me to come here and clear some names. I couldn't care less about this whole thing." My gaze keeps coming back to the mysterious robed man. He looks oddly familiar, but I can't quite remember where I've seen him before.

"Regardless, you have spared me from the unpleasant ending of today that I had thought inevitable." But how long will it be before Meredith begins to suspect me again? Long enough for issues to be sorted out in Kirkwall I hope.

Maker watch over us all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Falere**

 _Seven years later…_

It is time for the clan to move on. The time for the arlathvhen is almost upon us and it is where I shall be introduced to the other Dalish clans. Keeper Marethari decided that she would seek out the knowledge of the other Keepers before she made any final decisions about my future in the Sabrae clan. After seven years of training under her watchful eye, I have flourished with the knowledge granted to me and have even earned the trust and respect of the rest of the clan. My clan.

It feels good to belong somewhere again after my time as a Warden – well I suppose I still _am_ a Warden – even the nightmares from the taint have decreased in number, although whether or not this is a result from Marethari's training, I cannot say.

Most of our belongings have been stowed away in the aravels and soon the whole clan prepares themselves for the long journey ahead. With all of our halla gone, we will be heavily reliant on Marethari's magic to keep the caravans moving and should that fail, it may be up to me to use my magic. It hopefully won't come to that though.

Sundermount has been a good home for the past seven years and I will miss it – particularly because Hawke's party used to pass through a lot and with Hawke came Varric and Merrill, who were perhaps the only friends I regularly saw. It was they who told me about what had happened to Cullen when Meredith discovered I had fled from the Templar Hall. Thank the Mak— _Creators_ that Anders and I had spoken when we did. On their last visit Varric told me of Meredith's demise at the hands of red lyrium after she had invoked the Right of Annulment and how Hawke had become viscount; Cullen now lead the Templars of Kirkwall as Knight-Commander and was no worse for wear after everything that had happened. But now it is time to really begin my new life. The aravels are ready and I take one last look at the city in the distance before joining Keeper Marethari as we set off.

After three weeks of travelling, I have lost all sense of direction; forward apparently being the only way to ever get somewhere. Keeper Marethari constantly assures my worrying mind that we are going in the correct direction and that soon we will be at the meeting place that was agreed upon ten years ago.

We make camp – our last before we will come to the heart of the forest that will host the elven gathering – and after we have eaten, Marethari speaks.

"I must tell you something, da'len. Something that you need to know in case it is mentioned tomorrow." She stands up from our campfire and goes inside her aravel, beckoning for me to follow her. Usually we always speak over the fire, letting the flames warm our hearts as we listen to the hahren tell tales of Elvhenan, but not tonight it would seem. I sit before her in the small caravan and wait for her to explain.

"Do you remember when I first told you of your mother?" she asks, and I nod.

"You said her name was Valanna and that she was your First. She left for the alienage so that she could stay in one place and have a family." We had not spoken of my mother since then, so why would the Keeper bring her up now?

"I may not have told you everything." It doesn't surprise me – seven years ago I was an outsider, no matter who my mother was. Just because I came from a Dalish background didn't mean that I was going to be told everything and anything.

She continues, "Valanna was not just my First. She was also my daughter."

"What!" I blurt, "But that would mean you're my… you're my…."

"Grandmother." Marethari says with a small smile.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I ask. _I have family!_ My mind sings. _I have family!_

"Ir abelas, mah da'len. I am sorry, my child. I wished to know you as my apprentice first, and my family second." I'm not sure if that makes sense to me. All I can hear is the singing in my head. _I have family!_

"So what happens now?" I manage to ask, forcing the singing down to a quiet hum.

"Tomorrow I shall talk to the other Keepers and tell them who you are. Together we will decide what path your future will take."

She said the same thing when we first started preparing for the gathering, although I don't know what it means exactly. I'll be staying with Marethari won't I? She has no First, even now that I have joined. I am her apprentice but she felt as though the decision to make me – once a 'flat ear' – First was not just hers to make.

I ask her my questions and explain my confusion. She just shakes her head.

"All shall be revealed tomorrow," she says and upon seeing my disappointed face, "Do not forget to prepare yourself, Falere. You shall receive your vallaslin tomorrow as well." The ancient blood-writing ceremony that was held for an elf who was approaching adulthood could be thought of differently for my situation. Tomorrow I would get my vallaslin as a symbol – not of adulthood – but of dedication to the ancient ways. After my ceremony, if I am looked upon by an outsider they will see a Dalish elf. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

May the Creators guide me when tomorrow comes.

We are the last clan to arrive at the ancient oak tree that marks the centre of the forest. Elves sing and laugh and dance to elven song; while in a small group at the base of the tall oak, the clans Keepers sit – each with a younger elf at their side, presumably their chosen First. This is not what I had expected when I pictured the arlathvhen – I'd always imagined it to be full of elders telling stories of the past accompanied by new artefacts that had been brought to life. A clearing full of mirth and song is a far more welcoming idea.

The rest of the Sabrae clan begin to set up camp whilst Marethari heads towards the gathering at the oak tree, nodding for me to come with her. I'm trembling a little as we join the other Keepers – my fate as a Dalish elf is about to be decided. Of course they all notice me right away – I suppose the fact that I am not Merrill is a little distracting, along with the absence of vallaslin; my interpretation seems correct, because already more than half the elves that are in this group, Keeper and First, have glared at me suspiciously. I do so _love_ making new friends.

"Marethari!" An elf with grey streaks in her auburn hair, stands up and embraces my grandmother. Creators, it sounds so strange to call her that. I wonder what the rest of our gathering will think. We'll soon see, I guess.

"Deshanna." Marethari smiles warmly before sitting on the warm grass beside her friend. I sit cross-legged next to her, trying to avoid the constant glare of some of the others. The woman named Deshanna – Keeper Deshanna, I suppose she would be – then turns her attention to me.

"Who is this, Marethari?" she asks, curiously, "Where is Merrill?"

"Merrill thought it better for the clan if she left." Marethari replies, "But before she moved on, she introduced me to Falere who had the gift of magic and wished to learn our ways."

"And so you made an outsider your First?" One of the more unfriendly Keepers asks coldly, "That is hardly appropriate. A flat-ear cannot become Keeper."

"I have not made her my First, Levinia." Marethari says, "Although I have trained her as one. I wanted to discuss her future with you all. Today she will receive her vallaslin and begin her life anew, reborn as a true elf."

Deshanna smiles at me, but the others merely glare or avoid looking at me altogether. Keeper Levinia looks livid.

"You are allowing an outsider to receive the blood-writing?"

"I am." I will always admire my Keeper's stubbornness. Or perhaps I should be kinder and call it determination – if it wasn't for the fact that I'm almost believing Levinia myself. Do I really deserve the vallaslin? Does being Marethari's granddaughter actually change anything?

Apparently it does.

A newfound respect shows in the circle of elves when Marethari explains that I am 'of Dalish origins'. Keeper Levinia, who spoke out against me so strongly before, makes no more attempts to argue. Maybe I should tell people I'm Dalish more often. Of course there is always a fifty-fifty chance that that will result in either a knife in the back or respect. I'm glad that in this case it was the latter option.

Another woman speaks, only this time she addresses me instead of Marethari. "I was born amongst humans, da'len. My old Keeper Zathrian, raised me and taught me our ways. I may have been much younger than you are now, but if Marethari believes that you are ready to be her First then you have my blessing."

"Ma serannas, Keeper Lanaya." Deshanna murmurs.

However, the rest of the Keepers might not be speaking their minds, but it is obvious that they still don't think much of my becoming Clan Sabrae's First. The curl in their lip is the most subtle sign. In fact, Keeper Deshanna seems to be the only one who doesn't mind that I was born in an alienage. I appreciate what she says next, a great deal.

"If Falere is to receive her vallaslin, perhaps we should begin preparation? A ceremony would be a fine way to begin the arlathvhen and perhaps afterwards we will have decided what will become of her."

I would really like to find my voice and speak up for myself. I would like to point out that I understand why so many of them doubt me and that I only felt like myself when I joined the Dalish clan, seven years ago. But I don't, because at the mention of the blood-writing ceremony my heart flutters with excitement.

Marethari agrees, "Let us continue this discussion later then." Then we'll see just how effective and influencing having vallaslin can be. The gathering disperses quickly and I find myself wandering away from the clearing and deeper into the trees. I was always told that before receiving my markings, I had to find peace with our gods. Once I am far enough away from the busy clearing, I kneel and pray to Mythal to watch over me during my ceremony. It is her blood-writing that I wish to bear. Every elf gets the choice to decide which set of blood-writing they wish to receive – the hunters usually choose Andruil and thus this is the most popular choice, but I have always desired to have the writing of Mythal. It is comforting to know that she will protect me because of who I chose to be rather than who I was born to be.

"They'll soon start wondering where you've gone." A voice behind me makes me jump to my feet and spin around to face the intruder. An elven woman with a kind face and long dark hair is looking at me, concern showing through her eyes with lovely long eyelashes. I recognise her from the Keeper gathering.

"Is it almost time for the ceremony?" I ask nervously. She nods, "Once Deshanna and Marethari manage to get everyone to quiet down."

She steps towards me, "I heard what was said about you before. It's unfair that so many would believe that a 'flat-ear' cannot truly be considered Dalish."

I catch her eyes and she bows her head, "I am Neryla, Second to Keeper Deshanna"

"Falere," I find myself saying, "And my position in the Dalish is - as you probably know - up for debate at the moment." Neryla laughs and I smile too, in spite of myself. This is the first time since joining the Dalish that I've ever had the opportunity to make friends. As a Second, Neryla probably has the same problem.

"Do you want any last minute advice?" she offers and I nod. It can't hurt.

"When the writing is first applied, the pain is…unbearable. But that is the point of the ceremony. To prove that as a Dalish, you are ready to bear the unbearable. Try your best not to wince or move and you probably know this already but be _completely silent_." she pauses, "If you make even the slightest noise, then the Keeper applying the writing has the right to call off the ceremony and if the Keeper happens to be one who is dead set on making sure you don't get the markings… well, you know where I'm going with this." Wonderful.

"I suppose I ought to go back then." I say. "Ma serannas, Neryla."

"Good luck, lethallan." She replies.

As it turns out, it is not Marethari who is given the duty of applying my vallaslin but instead Keeper Deshanna of Clan Lavellan. The audience that greets me when I return from the forest is no bigger than fifty people – just the Keepers and their chosen Firsts and Seconds, as well as respected members of each clan. I didn't expect so many to watch, and even though there are at least a hundred other elves in the clearing, all is silent.

"Kneel, da'len." Keeper Deshanna says and I obey, concentrating deeply on my faith. This is the moment. My moment. The moment that I pledge myself to the elvhen Pantheon. Energy swirls in my veins, mingling with the adrenaline, thus making my whole body buzz. I am ready for this.

"The Creators all have their own blood-writing," Deshanna says, "Which deity shall you honour as a Dalish elf, above all else?"

"Mythal." I find my words at last, "Our Protector. May she protect me from harm on my new path."

"Ma nuvenin." The older woman murmers.

Hot, white pain laces across my face and I almost shudder and cry out but I bite my tongue, remembering to stay silent. Deshanna works carefully, embellishing my face with the intricate writing of Mythal. Before we started and I had contemplated what this would feel like, I'd always thought the pain would eventually fade as I got used to it – only it doesn't. My entire head throbs and my vision becomes blurry, but I endure. I have got to endure. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth after a particularly intense wave of pain washes over me; the pain must show in my eyes because Deshanna gives a sympathetic smile as she finishes the design.

"It is done." She helps me to my feet, "You have done well, da'len. You might have been born in an alienage, but now you are one of our people. Now you are Dalish."

Then she begins the debate again. "But what shall become of this child now that she is one of us? She has the gift of magic and blood of our sacred Keepers. Shall she remain with Keeper Marethari and eventually lead the Sabrae clan?" A ripple of muttering and murmurs flow through the clearing.

"What if her association with the alienage puts the clans in danger?" An elf asks.

"There are other clans that are more fitting for someone of her background to join," says another Keeper.

"What do you mean, Elindra?" asks Marethari, cautiously.

"Clan Lavellan regularly trades with the shems and the flat-ears. They would be better suited to being led by an elf like your granddaughter – someone who has had experience dealing with humans in the past."

"Clan Lavellan has a First." Marethari points out, "And a Second."

"And you do not have anyone," says Keeper Elindra. "Might I suggest that Deshanna let Pylas join your clan instead. He would be capable of taking on the role as your apprentice."

"I am quite capable of speaking for myself, lethallan." Deshanna interrupts. "It _could_ work. Neryla has much to learn still, and Marethari has no doubt trained Falere well in the ways of the Keeper." She pauses, in thought.

"I shall gladly accept Falere into my clan as my First if that is what Marethari wishes." All eyes look upon my grandmother who in turn looks weary from the attention. She catches my eye.

"Is this what you want, da'len?" Is this what I want? Elindra does have a point, I would be much better suited to the Lavellan clan and I know Neryla already. I would actually have a friend in this new clan – things wouldn't be so bad. I'd just have to leave Marethari, the only family I have had in a long time – regardless of how long I've known about her link to my mother, Marethari has mentored me for seven years. She is my family, blood or no.

But this is for the best, right? In the long run if it keeps her safe from the violence of the shems…

"I will do it." I answer, "It is for the best." She smiles then, "You have made me proud, da'len. You will do well with Deshanna."

"So it is decided then," Elindra says, "Pylas shall join Clan Sabrae and Falere shall take his place in Clan Lavellan."

Mythal guide me.


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! So if you've gotten this far then I just want to thank you – I'm new to this whole fanfic thing and this is probably the longest writing project I've ever done so bear with me! I really hope that you enjoy what you read and that you stick with me through this adventure – I have a lot planned for this story and I'd really like to have some regular readers experience this journey with me! Ma serannas! - Becca**

The arlathvhenan was over. Two days had passed since I had received my vallaslin and my new purpose within the Dalish clans. Stories of the past ten years had been exchanged and newly discovered relics had been revealed and shared. Marethari had told everyone of the fate of Tamlen – a Dalish hunter of her clan who had perished from the Blight sickness eight years ago after he had found Merrill's corrupted Eluvian in an underground ruin.

I noticed she skilfully evaded the questions concerning the whereabouts and condition of the mirror now. I suppose telling them about what Merrill had done to it would just worry them further about something that is far beyond their control.

But now the Sabrae clan is ready to move on and from the dying embers of my campfire, I watch as they finish harnessing the last of their new halla herd to Master Ilen's aravel.

Eventually Marethari spots me and she makes her way over to my smouldering fire, a sad smile playing on her lips which I do my best to return – whilst furiously blinking back tears.

"You shall do well with Deshanna, da'len." she whispers, embracing me tightly. Her words do little to cure me of my heartache but her confidence gives me some strength for the future. Everything is so unknown and I feel just like how I had been when I first sought out the Dalish. I am going to be a stranger to my world again while I learn to be a part of Clan Lavellan. It's almost as if I am starting over again.

"Thank you for believing in me Keeper." My voice wavers and for a moment I think I really will break under the pressure and drown myself in unwelcome tears. Somehow though, I manage to hold on and so swallowing back my fears, I pull my body away.

"Stay safe, da'len," Marethari says, "And may the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."

"Falere," behind me my friend's voice sounds apologetic as she interrupts. Over the past few days Neryla and I have become firm friends, confiding in each other about things we had never been able to speak of until now. I haven't told her of my involvement in the Blight, but she was especially curious as to where I was when the terrible plague did curse our land.

Marethari gives me one last smile and returns to her clan's aravels, preparing to move at last. Neryla shows me sympathy in her hazel eyes as I finally drag my eyes back to her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," I have to show my new clan that I can be strong and unwavering so that they feel safe around me. A Keeper did not keep the fate of mages a secret to any in their clan, which meant that everyone knew how vulnerable I am to demons.

"We're almost ready to go too," Neryla glances back to the Lavellan hunters who are shoving the last of our equipment into any nook and cranny they can find in the aravels. "Deshanna told me that we are going south." South? But that would mean returning to Kirkwall – or maybe even Ferelden – what would our Keeper possibly need in order for us to go south?

"Does she mean for us to go to Ferelden then?" Starting back towards our busy clan-mates behind us, we attempt to find our Keeper amongst them all. Deshanna proves to be incredibly tricky to spot – her height playing no small part in that, an ironic thing to think due to how small she really is. We find her talking to our halla-keeper Elladaan – a shy woman with a pixie face and a roughly cut blonde bob. Upon seeing her First and Second, the Keeper flashes us a relaxed smile and saunters over to greet us.

"Children," she says brightly, "I do believe we are ready to go now."

"Where are we going Keeper?" I ask, not sure about what I want her to reply with. The thought of going back to Ferelden is not an idea that I am particularly excited about, despite it being my homeland. After all, I haven't stepped foot there in years and part of me doesn't want to ever again. I am content with the Dalish, and I desire not, to be known forever as the Hero of Ferelden since that pretty much vanquishes any chance of me leading a normal life.

Maybe I should have let Alistair strike the killing blow against the archdemon. Maybe then he would be the Hero of Ferelden as well as the king. If only.

"I thought we might go south, da'len." Deshanna looks thoughtfully at the ancient oak tree behind us.

"Will we be trading with the shems then?" Neryla can't hide her curiosity. The Keeper had had many dealings with the humans in the past although she only ever involved her First with them. I suppose the duty of trading with outsiders now falls to me.

"One of the clans heard a whisper of a 'conclave' happening in Ferelden. It has something to do with the war between those Templars and the Circle mages. Elindra said something about the 'divine' but I'm not sure what she was on about."

"The Divine." I echo, "She leads the Chantry from the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. If she has involved herself then maybe she means for this Conclave to be a way to achieve peace."

"You may be right da'len. If that is true then we must know what is being said."

"Would it be wise to interrupt a shemlen gathering as important as this, Keeper?"

"Perhaps not," she says, "But this war affects us all. How are we to know what the future holds for us if we are not there to witness it in the making? We _must_ know under what conditions peace might be made."

"When the time is write, I will send you Falere, to watch over this gathering for me." Spy on the Divine? If I was still an Andrastian I do not think I could commit a more sinful crime. Deshanna notes my hesitation.

"We will speak of this at a later date," she says, "Do not worry yourself with this just yet." And then nodding to Neryla she declares, "It is time for us to leave this place."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 4 months later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warm breeze caresses my cheeks as I move further into the trees. This part of the forest is abundant with herbs – embrium, deathroot and elfroot fills the majority of these woods that run right along the Storm Coast, but thanks to the small cluster of light that I had summoned a few days ago, I had stumbled upon a small rock cavern that I discovered contained many samples of deep mushroom. It is this cavern that I wander over to now, ducking my head under the low stone ceiling as I search for the remaining samples of mushroom that before were too small to take.

Inside it is dank, dark and dangerously narrow, dropping to my knees I manage to crawl along the passage; hands skimming over the chilled stone floor as they search for the blue fungi lurking somewhere within. At last they find what they seek and my satchel is soon filled with the glowing blue mushrooms.

Satisfied with my findings I carefully begin to back out; too wary of the ceiling haunting me above my head to attempt to completely turn around. That is when I notice that as the light finds me again and greets me with fresh air – the breeze that once stroked my face has dissolved into an empty hollow nothingness.

The cold steel of a dagger pierces the skin just below my left shoulder blade and pain blossoms throughout my body like chain lightening, leaving me shocked. I get roughly pulled backwards; awkwardly landing on my side after I struggle with my unseen attacker.

That's when my eyes finally manage to catch up and take note of the intruder. It's a shem – of course it is – and he laughs wickedly at the sight of me bleeding upon the ground like a stuck pig.

"Caught you little knife-ear!" he smirks, twirling his dagger in his fingers. "Been tracking you for long enough." So he is not only an elf-hater but a trouble maker too. Yet no matter how cruel he might be, I still cannot find it in my heart to hate him for the pain he has inflicted on me. I have been in his shoes – a believer in the Maker – and I trusted everything the revered mother in the Circle said; and she said terrible things about the Dalish elves. If this man is acting on belief, then how can I hate him for it? I could still use my magic and have him upon the ground at my mercy within seconds, but I do nothing. He is further beyond his depths than he realises but I will not kill him for being a fool.

"You elf savages are as good as another Blight on this land!" he spits, dropping to his knees and pressing the knife against my neck menacingly. He doesn't notice my hands glow as I summon armour of rock to harden my skin as a way of protection.

"You're the reason the Maker left us! You knife-ears are the reason the Templars and mages hate each other! If you would just _submit_ to the will of the Maker—" His face is twisted with mixed emotions – anger, confusion, and even fear. I can see that his eyes no longer make him appear malicious but instead frightened.

I am a stranger to this war between mages and Templars – my clan is rather isolated from the world, even when we traded with the shemlem caravan last week. But if the survivors of this war are anything like the man with me now, then the Dalish may be in more danger than we initially thought.

Yet now, after his initial attack, which still throbs painfully on my back, he seems conflicted. The dagger trembles and quivers at my throat whilst I spot a tear escape his eye which he stops to wipe away. He slowly stands up and sheathes his weapon.

"I thought you savages talked more." he murmurs under his breath. I scramble to my feet, wincing as the pain flares and crackles in my blood, getting worse with every second I carry it.

"Sorry to disappoint you, shem." I say lightly, watching him for a sign of another attack. I am nothing if not careful and the only way to allow room in my judgement for kindness and mercy is to be a beacon of carefulness. Being with the Dalish for seven years has allowed me to master these skills completely.

"Falere!?" My head whips around to see Nialla, one of our more violent hunters, in an archer's stance, arrow trained on the man.

"It's fine lethallan!" But she has already caught sight of the blood weeping from my shoulder and her dark eyes narrow, lip curling into a snarl.

"You've made your last mistake shem." Before I can intervene, Nialla lets her arrow fly true and it slams into his chest. The sounds of him sputtering and choking plague the air.

Rushing forward I try to find his pulse but it is already fading rapidly. I have both herbs and healing magic at my disposal but he is too far gone for either to be of any use. The arrow had skewed slightly to the left, probably a deliberate action by the hunter behind me as a way to make the man suffer before he dies. She is not known for making rational decisions.

"P-poison!" he chokes before his heads lolls to one side and the light fades from his eyes.

"Falon'Din guide you." I mutter under my breath, whilst Nialla declares, "Good riddance!"

I turn on her angrily, "Why did you do that? He had backed off. He was leaving!"

"Leaving for reinforcements, perhaps." She shoots back, "Shems can't be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Your compassion would have doomed our entire clan. I did what needed to be done." His last words echo faintly in my head. Poison. What did he mean?

I start the walk back to my camp, sighing. Maybe I will find out later. At least his spirit is with the Creators now – or the Maker, if that is who he believed in – as troubled as it might be.

Upon my return, Neryla comes to find me in my tent, worry plastered upon her face.

"Nialla told everyone what happened – are you alright? How badly did the shem hurt you?"

I wave her off, "I'm fine. I've already dealt with it and it has healed well. I just wish Nialla hadn't killed him. You should have seen him Ryla! He was terrified – the war has all the shems on edge – it wasn't his fault!"

"He still attacked you," Neryla disagrees, "And if he was hysterical like you say, then that made him even more dangerous. At least now his spirit is free."

But he is still dead and it doesn't seem right.

"Deshanna asked me to get you," my friend says after a long moment of silence, "I think it might be about that Conclave that she mentioned at the arlathvhen."

My mind lingers on the dead shem for another moment before I hastily get to my feet, wobbling for a moment.

"Are you sure you're okay Falere?" I nod.

Deshanna is by the halla pen watching the beautiful creatures graze on the luscious, long grass. "Keeper," I say cautiously. After months of contemplating the idea, I still am not comfortable with her proposition of spying on the Holiest of Holies.

"I know what you're going to say," she says in reply, "I know you aren't comfortable with my idea. But think of the bigger picture lethallan!" Bright blue eyes meet my calm green, as her enthusiasm practically dances through her body.

"We _need_ to know what happens at this Conclave! The date has been set for it and our scouts discovered where it is being held. All you have to do is get there and listen in to the negotiations and then report straight back."

"So say I'm considering it," I begin, "What would happen if the plans go all wrong and I get caught? A Dalish apostate spying on the Divine – if the Templars didn't do away with me first, then the faithful certainly would."

"It's a risk da'len. But so is wandering the land that is in the middle of a war." I don't like this idea, but it is my duty. I can hardly refuse my duty given how hard it was to even be considered appropriate to receive it.

"Fine." I am rewarded with a warm smile. "Ma serannas, da'len." The Keeper embraces me quickly. "The Conclave is in one month in the Chantry of a small village called Haven. I think it's somewhere around the Frostback Mountains. The scouts can show you exactly where it is."

"So this is it then?" I ask, "I'm just going to nip round to the Conclave, listen to a few stories and come back and tell you my favourite over a cup of tea?" Deshanna laughs.

"Keep that light in your heart, lethallan." she says, "You'll always need it."

My blood starts to burn at that moment, subtle at first but then it gets hotter and hotter, pounding in my ears like a roaring fire and stripping the colour from my skin. I think the Keeper asks me if I am okay but I can't be sure – everything all melds into a loud droning buzz and it becomes hard to focus on anything.

My body fails and I barely notice the impact I make with the ground. It is then, as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably while I am only able to watch, that I understand the meaning of that shemlem's last words. Poison.

I almost feel satisfied in the last few seconds of consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey! Sorry this is such a short chapter - I'm planning a double upload today to make up for it :) Thanks for reading!**

Black eyes glitter through the succumbing darkness, embellishing the dark with their own shade of wickedness; the last time they met my gaze, I had been left entirely at their mercy. But this portion of the Fade seems different – even the Black City above me seems…wrong. It is almost as if my spirit is here, but it isn't… awake. Movement is sluggish and concentrating on the demon in front of me is near impossible.

"Looks like _someone_ has gotten themselves in quite the _situation_." she hisses, beckoning me to her. I can't move, not even if I wanted to. Something is wrong here – usually I am free to do what I wish when I visit this place but not today it would seem; has a sloth demon managed to slink into the depths of my mind or am I sluggish for another reason? My physical form perhaps?

"Your life is draining from you, little elf," the temptress in front of me whispers, "Your spirit is waning, even now." I can't even remember when the last time I saw something real was – time never seems to pass in the Fade, although it feels like an eternity. I just want to wake up; the games these demons play – the constant changing of the paths so that I find myself at dead ends; demons taking the form of those I have left behind; and the music, the slow torturous song that has started to leave its mark on my mind – is exhausting. Make it stop.

She sidles even closer to my paralyzed body, "Not long now, little elf. Not long at all."

And then, at last my eyes open to the new light. Next to me, a child gives a little gasp, "You're awake!" before the sound of footsteps on pine needles tells me that they have run away. The cot complains as my feet find the smooth wood of the aravel floor, giving one last final protest when I find the strength to get to my feet. Outside is eerily quiet, and peering out of the open door brings no comfort as I can see only the empty forest beyond.

Something feels off about this entire situation – not just the quiet or the fact that the forest looks nothing like the one that I had explored at the Storm Coast – and that's when I feel hunger clawing at my stomach with vicious talons. I go to rest my hand on my stomach only to have my hand greet little more than a skeleton tied together with flesh. Eyes drifting to my body – which is clothed in a thin robe – I take in the deathly pale skin and my fragile, bony fingers. My stomach lurches, and I can almost hear my ribcage rattle in response. With my body in this condition, how in the world am I still standing?

"Lethallan!" I barely recognise the voice that is so choked with terror that belongs to Deshanna and I hardly believe the scene in front of me, ducking my head under the door to escape from the wooden caravan.

The child that I heard before is sprinting towards me – face set with determination and fear – with my Keeper close in pursuit, and by the look on my mentor's face I am clearly not supposed to be here. Both stop a few metres away from me, panting heavily from exhaustion. "Keeper?" My rasping voice barely reaches her ears, suppressed by my raw, scratchy throat. To describe myself as confused is definitely an understatement – where am I? What happened to me? Fragments of memories keep popping back up but the only thing I can recall is one word. Poison.

"Let us help you, da'len." She regains her breath and before I can stop her she has gently wrapped my left arm around her waist, inhaling sharply upon seeing how delicate I am. I think back to my time in Kirkwall when Varric nicknamed me Petal, musing at whether he could see the future. I wonder where my dwarven friend is now.

I cast my head back towards the aravel that I emerged from and at the sight of it my heart shudders. I think I have discovered why I was all alone in the middle of nowhere. The wheels on the aravel have become imprisoned in the earth, held there by a tangle of deathroot that grows underneath the wooden caravan. It hasn't been used for transport in a long time, and the assortment of flowers just by the open door – some that have long been withered and dead, and others that are still fresh – are arranged around a sketch on parchment.

The sketch is of me. My face captured in fine black ink.

This is a tomb. My tomb.


	11. Chapter 11

My clan members shy away from me the moment they see Deshanna supporting me through the woods, eyes wide with terror as though they had seen a ghost. I suppose in a manner of speaking they have. But was I dead? Have I been brought back to life by the grace of the gods, or did I just awaken from a seemingly endless sleep? Questions are all I have holding me to consciousness right now. I stop dead when Deshanna leads us towards her personal aravel. The cramped surroundings of the tomb-aravel make me take another helping of fresh air through my lungs.

"Not…there…please…" Every word is a battle and I nod towards the camp fire in the centre of the clearing which the Keeper spots. When I am sitting on a fallen tree log, with my hands soothed by the warm embrace of the campfire, Deshanna calls for some food and water. The clan jumps back to life awkwardly, but they cannot hide all of their confused whispers from me, as much as they might try.

 _"…_ _back from the dead."_

 _"…_ _a blessing from the Creators…"_

 _"_ _Have our gods returned to us…?"_

Within an hour I have regained as much strength as is physically possible for me – my throat quenched with cold water and my belly full with as much food as the Keeper would allow me to eat. "You have been without food for a very long time da'len," she told me, "It is dangerous to over-indulge yourself too quickly."

For now I am content. All that would make this feeling better are answers. "What happened to me?" I ask and the Keeper sits down beside me with sympathetic eyes. "It is a long tale, da'len," she says quietly, "And now that you are alive to hear it, I do not think that it was all that it once appeared to be."

"Just tell me."

"Very well," taking a deep breathe, she begins.

"When you were attacked by that shem that Nialla killed, it seemed as if your stab wound was just that – a stab wound. But the blade that inflicted it was doused in a poison – a poison that I could not cure, only delay."

"You were dying dal'en, and it broke our hearts to watch. You never woke and it was all we could do to make sure that you didn't starve to death. We were still travelling, but we made sure to watch over you closely each day. After a few weeks, you began to… change."

"Your skin – over the course of a day it began to look greyer and greyer, almost like it was decaying, only you weren't dead. I had only seen one other sickness like it a very long time ago – the Blight sickness. None of my cures were working, and so we assumed that you had been attacked with an infected blade."

"We stopped in this forest not four days ago. Your breathing had slowed dramatically and we were sure that you were going to pass on. But if you had been poisoned by the darkspawn's corruption then burying your body would only pass the sickness onto this land. Instead we placed you inside one of the clan's aravels as your final resting place. The ceremony was going to be tonight, but it would seem that we need a ceremony no longer."

The Blight sickness? Is that even possible? I feel as intelligent as a confused nug, trying to keep up with everything that Deshanna has revealed. I am a Grey Warden, the taint shouldn't even have an effect on me anymore, so how could it poison me – or change me? Unless it wasn't the poison at all. It could have just masked the real poison – and if planned right, it wouldn't betray any of its normal symptoms when it had the taint to hide behind. But explaining this to Deshanna would be revealing a bit more of my past than I am comfortable with. Somehow I doubt I have a choice this time, if only I could have told Neryla first; she would know how to tell the Keeper.

Neryla. It strikes me that I haven't seen her in all of this commotion, and if my situation was as dire as Deshanna would have me believe, then she would have been one of the first people who I would have encountered here. "Where is Neryla?" I search Deshanna's eyes hoping to find answers but instead she turns away, staring into the orange flames.

"Much has happened since you left the world, Falere," she says after a time. "The task that I once set you, fell to Neryla after you became stricken." I scramble together my thoughts, trying to recall just what she is talking about. Then it hits me. The Conclave. I was supposed to go and spy on the meeting, but if I was ill then it would have been my best friend's duty as Second to step in for me.

"What do you mean Keeper? Where is she?"

"She is with the Inquisition, da'len – at a fortress in the mountains called Skyhold. The Conclave… it did not go well. She has not sent word to us yet, but we have heard rumours and the like. The Divine you spoke of – the one whose meeting it was – is dead. There was an explosion, one that supposedly came from the Temple of Sacred Ashes; the meeting place of the Conclave." An explosion? So Neryla is… I push the words away, I can't bear to even think of it, of my friend as…

"So she's…" I trail off, leaving Deshanna to finish my sentence and confirm my fears. It never comes.

"No da'len. She isn't dead. She was the _only one to survive_." Huh? I thank the Creator's over and over again, hoping they hear my late thanks. My friend is alive, but where is she? Surely she should have come back then.

"The last we heard, the shems had named her the 'Herald of Andraste'. We heard whispers of a 'Dalish elf being rescued from the Fade by a woman'. The humans have drawn their own conclusion."

"Why haven't we heard from her then?" I ask, worriedly, "How long has it been since the Conclave? How long was I gone for? The Conclave was one whole month away when you told me about it."

"You were unconscious for almost four months da'len. The explosion happened around two months ago and the hole in the sky that came after disappeared about a month after that. The Inquisition has been busy helping with the chaos – Neryla has been the most prominent one among them all." The idea of my best friend being involved with the death of the Divine and this 'Inquisition' doesn't reassure me. My doubt must show on my face because Deshanna places a careful hand on my shoulder.

"She will be okay da'len. She will reply to my letter eventually – she promised she would send word if things went badly, and our Neryla knows how to keep a promise." I don't argue with that. No words could be said with more truth to them.

"Where is this Skyhold? I want to see Neryla myself."

"And you will see her," my Keeper replies, "But first you must focus on getting better for all of our sakes." Who knows just how long that will take? But I'll do it – until we hear from my friend at least. Then no one will stop me.

 **Neryla**

The sunlight shines through the windows onto the large table in front of me; operations are scattered across the large map of Ferelden and Orlais, beckoning me to call attention to every one of them. Behind the table stand my loyal advisors – Josephine is finishing off her report concerning the masquerade at Halamshiral; Cullen stands tall next to her, occasionally allowing himself a shy look in my direction, and Leliana studies the map with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You have not yet contacted your clan since the Conclave, Inquisitor," my spymaster reminds me, "Perhaps this is also something to take into consideration." Josephine looks up from her report, "It will not be long before they start to hear rumours about Haven, and it would be better coming from you." They are right, of course. It's been months since I left my clan in the place of Falere. I meant to send word to them while we were in Haven but it never seemed like the right time. I can only imagine what they must be thinking now – no doubt they've heard of the Herald of Andraste through trading with the shems. I only hope they haven't taken it the wrong way.

"What are my options then?" I ask, eyeing up the diamond marker that is close to falling off the map in the Free Marches. Josephine begins to write elegantly, whilst sharing her idea.

"Your people must be approached carefully, although I doubt you need to be told that; one of our elven scribes could deliver a message and share news of the Inquisition's fair treatment." It seems practical enough.

"Thoughts?" I invite my commander and spymaster to contribute. Leliana nods in approval, "It would work, Inquisitor but the Dalish respect deeds, not words. Let my elven agents deliver something the clan needs as a show of good faith."

So far Leliana's plan seems to have the better chance of success, but I am not without faith in Cullen.

"What would you suggest, commander?" He blushes and turns away. "My troops can deliver news of your safety and make it clear that the Inquisition should be taken seriously."

I dismiss this idea almost immediately, "That would be dangerous for both sides – a fully-armed patrol of human troops marching towards a reclusive Dalish clan? That will only lead to trouble." He nods, almost looking ashamed at proposing the idea. I make a mental note to talk to him later about it. "We'll go with what Leliana came up with." I say, and my advisors nod in agreement. "Is that all Inquistor?" the ambassador asks, busily writing notes.

"It is." I place Leliana's handpainted card under the marker and leave the table behind me; starting towards my quarters. I have letters that need to be written before my spymaster sends her scouts their instructions – letters that I should have written long before now.


End file.
